Stay with me
by Bluestarshine
Summary: Without him, she ceases to exist. She stays in loneliness, consumed by pain and grief. He comes to her, he finds her, in her moment of darkness and he stays with her. She never asked him to stay but she never had to.


**Disclaimer: Homeland is copyright to Howard Gordon, Alex Gansa and Gideon Raff. I claim nothing. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made**

* * *

The first days were accompanied by emptiness; a cold, inconsolable, emptiness which consumed and controlled her entirely.

Even if she'd wanted to, even if she'd tried to, fight it she wouldn't win and she didn't want to win. She knew she couldn't win because she had lost something that could never be replaced. She lost her love.

He was gone, killed by the man who created him, and he would never return to her.

Carrie was alone. She was tired, defeated, and she was entirely alone. She didn't return to work, there was nothing there for her, despite Saul's persistent efforts to convince her that she should return, that there was always a job waiting for her, that working would help her take her mind off it.

Her mind wouldn't let her forget him easily but she didn't want to.

She searched for similarities of him but found nothing.

She barely left her house in the months that passed by. She was confined to her room, leaving only to bathe, eat occasionally, take her medication and drink more wine. She sometimes found herself watching television but nothing interested her.

She begin to plant; she worked tirelessly in her garden, day after day, working until the sweat would drip off of her body and even then she wouldn't stop. Then, she would bathe, dry herself, change into warm clothes and climb into bed.

Her days consisted of silence.

The phone rang so much, at the start, that she eventually ripped it out of the wall.

She welcomed the silence.

But her silence was broken one afternoon by the sound of a constant tapping on her front door. She went to the door but didn't answer it, she wouldn't or couldn't answer it.

Her father and sister had stopped by, a few days ago, and she had put on a smile, served them whatever food she could scrape together, and assured them she was happy with her small garden.

She was far from happy.

But he would have wanted her to be happy, she knew that, but she didn't believe she could ever be happy again.

The tapping on her front door grew louder and louder, she stayed still and waited for it to pass.

It didn't.

"I know you're in there, Carrie!" a familiar voice shouted.

_Quinn._

She hadn't see him in a year, his sudden appearance at her door was confusing to Carrie. She was curious as to why he was here, perhaps a request from Saul so he might convince her to return to work.

She stayed still.

"I've been staking out your house for two days, you haven't left. I know you're in here. So, either open up or I'll have a SWAT team quick it down." Quinn calls out.

Her hands slowly reach for the lock.

"Carrie..." he sighs.

Her hands grip the handle but she doesn't slide it open.

"Come on." he almost pleads with her to open the door.

She slides open the lock and slowly opens the front door.

Quinn stands before her, dressed in a long-sleeved dark navy shirt and black pants. He looks the same as the last time she saw him, those many months ago. His expression remains cool, impassive, as his eyes quickly flicker over her, assess her, take in every detail about her.

Her hair is longer than it was, just passing her shoulders. She looks tired, and has small bags underneath her eyes. She doesn't look unwell, to him, but she doesn't look particularly well. She isn't as sickly pale as he'd expected her to be.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" she asks.

"It's good to see you too." he says, as he steps inside without an invitation to do so. "Nice place you got here." he states.

She hesitates before she closes the door.

"What do you want? Wait, I've got a better question – why the fuck have you been staking out my house?" she asks.

Quinn turns slowly towards her.

"Well, I see you haven't changed at all, Carrie. Except your hair. It's longer. Looks good." he comments.

She sighs and glances at him, a clear look of impatience resting on her tired features.

Quinn shifts.

"I was in the neighbourhood." he lies.

"Staking my house out for two days?" she asks.

"I was, in the neighbourhood. I was back in town. Saul got in contact, wanted me to check in on you." he admits.

"So, you staked my house for two days?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I lied." he says, casually. "I've got better things to do with my time." he states.

"So, go do them." she retorts, quickly. "I've got better things to do with mine." she says.

Quinn appears disbelieving.

"Like what, gardening?" he scoffs.

"It's calming. Wait – How did you know, about that?" she turns quickly, towards him.

"Oh, Carrie." he sighs. "You ought to give me more credit." he teases.

Quinn receives silence.

"How, er...How are you doing?" he asks. "Heard you quit." he says.

She nods quickly. "Yes, I did." she answers.

"You avoided my question." he observes.

"I'm doing fine, Quinn. I'm doing great. But I'm in the middle of something." she lies.

Quinn can see right through her lies.

"Sure you are." he replies, disbelieving.

He casts a longer look over her, noting that her frame is much smaller than he remembers; she hasn't been eating, or taking care of herself.

"I'm starved," he sighs, as he steps towards the kitchen.

He'll search the kitchen for something he can fix up, for the two of them to eat.

"Just help yourself." Carrie sarcastically replies.

He manages a small smile. "Don't mind if I do."

Carrie rolls her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

She doesn't wait for his response.

"Saul sent you, didn't he?" she raises her voice. "Well, you can tell Saul-" she begins.

"Did it occur to you that I'm here because I want to be?" Quinn asks.

"Oh, yeah." she replies, clearly disbelieving of his words.

"Hey, I'm offended." Quinn says, placing his right hand over his heart like it's hurting.

"Bullshit." Carrie states.

Quinn's smile widens.

"You really haven't changed." he mutters.

"It's been a year, Quinn – since..." she begins. "A year. So, why do you give a shit now? Why do you care?" she asks.

Quinn shifts in his stance, as he closes the fridge.

"Nothing edible in there." he informs her.

She continues to watch him with a hardened expression.

He sighs loudly.

"I'm here because it's been a year." he admits.

Carrie doesn't understand, her silence indicates this much.

"I should have come sooner, alright?" he says, finally, as he takes a rigid step towards her. "But the whole year, I couldn't stop thinking about how shitty it was that I never came." he states.

"You're lying." she states, accusingly.

Quinn's frown deepens but his expression remains unclear, but free of emotion, to her.

"Did you really think I didn't notice your limp, when you came in?" Carrie asks.

Quinn stiffens up.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

He remains almost frighteningly calm.

"For you, Carrie." he answers.

He came back for her, to see her, to make sure she was okay because he had neglected to do that before he left.

Her frown deepens, she seems uncertain, unsure, as she presses her lips tightly together.

"Almost dying has a way of...making things clear." Quinn admits.

Her eyes slowly flicker over him.

"What-" she begins.

"I'm not here to talk about me. We're not going to talk about me, Carrie. We're talking about you." Quinn replies, quickly, with no hesitation.

"We aren't-" she starts.

"You're wasting away, Carrie." Quinn says, almost unintentionally shouting at her. "You have so much potential, so much to live for. You're still alive, Carrie, but you're wasting your time." he states.

She seems taken aback by his words.

"I get it, okay? You're grieving. We all grieve in our own ways." he begins.

"It's different," she shakes her head. "It's different and you don't get it, you don't understand." she states.

"You're probably right, Carrie." Quinn admits. "You loved him, didn't you?" he asks.

Her silence gives him an answer; yes, she loved him.

"And he loved you?" he asks.

Carrie nods once.

"I don't know what it's like to love and be loved in return, I don't have any fucking clue, Carrie." Quinn shakes his head, as he speaks.

He has loved, before, and he still loves now.

"But I do know that when you love someone you're supposed to want them to have the best, to see them free. You're free, Carrie. He wanted it this way." he says.

"I can't." she shakes her head. "I feel empty. I have this gaping hole, inside." she stifles a cry.

Quinn swallows tightly.

"You just have to take it one day at a time." he instructs.

Carrie sighs loudly. "I am."

"You're not, Carrie. Locking yourself up, inside, isn't taking it a day at a time. You're suffocating."

"What, you've been here thirty seconds and you think you know how I'm coping?" she sharply replies.

"Well..." Quinn begins, glancing down at his wrist-watch. "I've actually been here for two minutes and forty seven – no, forty eight seconds." he says, glancing back up to Carrie.

For a brief, flickering second she appears like she might get angry, mad at Quinn, but instead she laughs and it is the firs time in months that she has truly laughed.

As he catches a flicker of the old Carrie, in her smile, Quinn cannot help but be silently pleased.

_There she is_, he thinks to himself.

* * *

Quinn is persistent, annoyingly so.

This is made clear my Carrie who often shouts at him for how frequently he bothers her, how often he comes by without asking and lets himself in, how commonly he falls asleep on her couch and even after her attempts to wake him he doesn't stir.

He comes uninvited, stays as long as he pleases, helps himself to her kitchen which, one morning, she comes downstairs to find fully stocked. Quinn isn't here, when she finds this, and when she confronts it he adamantly denies it. One afternoon she finds a receipt in his jacket but says nothing.

He forces her to come outside with him, even if it is something so simple as a walk to a nearby park.

Quinn even gardens, with her. He designates himself a piece of earth, without asking her position to do so, and he plants with her.

One night, she found him outside digging and she almost shot him.

He'd laughed about the whole incident, apparently finding it hilarious, but she was furious and shouted out how it could have ended badly and how stupid he was.

The weeks continued to pass Carrie quickly but there was less silence, less emptiness, in them. She couldn't deny that at times she enjoyed his company.

Sometimes, she would come downstairs after a shower and find the television switched on to a movie he had been talking about, a warm meal sitting on the table, and a hot mug of coffee. And he would be gone, just like that.

There were days when he didn't show at all, and she felt guilty to admit that a part of her missed him on these days.

Then, he would return suddenly with no explanation of his absence.

She would quiz him on it, question where he was and what he had been doing, but Quinn would never tell her, never let on, he'd just change the conversation as quickly as he could.

She started seeing Saul, more, and her family. On some days, she would arrive at their house, instead of them always coming to her, and they would be delighted to see her.

She couldn't deny that there was still a hole in her heart, a hole that he left, and she thought of him always. There were days when she wouldn't get out of bed, she couldn't, and on those days Quinn conveniently left early so she could rest in alone with her thoughts of Nicholas Brody.

She would always love him, she could never stop herself from loving him.

Even after two years had passed, hundreds of days since she had last seen him, she still cried for him, she still thought of him, she still curled up under her sheets and spent the entire day there.

She couldn't love another like she loved him, it was impossible. She couldn't care for another as strongly, as completely, as she had cared for him. But she could love again, she could care again.

She felt guilty for simply considering the idea of loving again.

But Quinn's words replayed in her mind, over and over, about setting the one you love free.

_Had Brody set her free?_ Carrie often wondered. _Was this freedom? Could she be free without him?_

As the next year approached, the third year without him, Quinn stopped visiting as frequently as he once did.

He stocked her fridge, tended to his flowers in her garden, and took her out to lakes, and rivers, where they would sit in a comfortable silence.

He was changing, slowly. She noticed a tremor in his hands, but never said a word, just as she noticed his limp had grown worse.

If only she knew he spent these days away from her recovering in bed, from the searing pain which consumed his broken body. He drank a lot of whiskey, and scotch, and swallowed some pills to ease the pain from his old wounds which never really healed.

There were mornings when he would be determined to see her, because he enjoyed her company, but he often found himself stopping as he reached his front door. He would return to his bed and allow the darkness to take him, to lull him softly into a sleep which never eased his worries or his stresses.

It was only on a soft, but chilling, afternoon that she received a call from the hospital informing her that a Peter Quinn had been admitted due to a drug overdose; the landlord of the house he was squatting in had found him unconscious on the floor, a smashed bottle of alcohol shattered around him.

Carrie was listed as his first and only emergency contact.

She felt numb. She drove steadily towards the hospital but she drove like she was cautious, cautious of arriving there and being given the news that Quinn had overdosed and died.

She was slow, when she first entered the hospital. It took her a few moments to reach the front desk and inquire about Peter Quinn.

She was directed to the third level of the hospital where she came across his room; a man with dark, greying hair, and a cleanly shaven beard steps out of his room as she reaches it.

"I'm here to see Peter Quinn, I was called. I'm his emergency contact." she states, talking quickly, almost too quickly, for the doctor to listen.

"Ah, yes. Hi, Miss Mathison, I'm Doctor Barks. Mr Quinn suffered an overdose of the prescription pill Vicodin, his blood alcohol level was also dangerously high considering the medication he was on. Mr Quinn's stomach has been pumped, and we've currently treating him with activated charcoal to soak up what remains of the drug." The doctor informs her.

Doctor Barks continues speaking to Carrie, for some time, before he informs her that the treatment has finished and she may step inside if she wants to.

Carrie wants to stay but she can't. She backs away, runs almost, until she's outside where the icy air is enough to cool her. She draws in sharp breaths of air, exhales loudly, and runs her hands over her face.

Carrie is tired. She is tired of how close she always comes to losing those around her. She wants to leave, to return to the warmth that her bed provides, and she wants to sleep but she doesn't.

Quinn is alone. Completely and entirely alone. She won't leave him waiting for a year, she won't leave him alone in this.

She returns to his room an hour after leaving it, because she'd spent some time getting a warm coffee downstairs in the cafeteria.

When she reaches his room, she opens the glass door slowly and steps inside, closing it behind her. The blind are closed over, the only light comes from the dull light hanging from the ceiling.

She finds him resting in the hospital bed, on his back, with his hands resting softly on his chest. His eyes are tightly closed, his skin is pale and almost sickly, he looks tired, exhausted, and she cannot help the pain that she feels at the sight of him in such a state.

She steps closer, drags a seat to his bedside.

He stirs now.

Quinn's eyes slowly flicker open and he finds her, sitting before him, and he cannot almost believe that she is here with him.

"Carrie...?" he asks, with a soft voice.

A frown forms on his features as his eyes settle on her.

She manages a small smile. "Hey," she begins, softly.

He smiles weakly but it's more of a small, almost painful, grimace.

"Hey." he answers, with a voice that is barely above a whisper.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

Quinn simply groans as he closes his eyes.

"That bad, huh?" Carrie asks.

"What are you doing here, Carrie?" he asks, finally, eyes still tightly shut as he speaks.

Quinn sounds exhausted, his tone is low, but her name still sounds so soft, and so sweet, as he whispers it.

"I could ask you the same thing." she replies, with a soothing tone. "What happened, Quinn?" she asks.

His eyes open slowly but he has no explanation, that he wants to give her, no answer that he wants to tell her. He stays in the silence, in the darkness, because he wants to, because he has nowhere else to go, because he's become accustomed to it.

"You didn't tell me you were taking Vicodin." Carrie whispers, but her tone is still that of an _almost_ accusing one.

Quinn smiles sadly. "It wasn't about you." he says softly.

Carrie shakes her head, once, as she keeps her eyes set intently on him.

"When did it happen?" she asks.

"What?" he dryly replies, a tiny frown playing on his face.

"You're using because you're in pain, aren't you?" Carrie asks.

His eyes become colder, his expression harder, and she almost regrets asking the question.

"The year that you were gone?" she asks. "You almost died?" she continues.

Before he disappeared, for the year, he didn't have the slight limp.

"Yes." Quinn answers.

"What happened?" she questions.

She wants to leave it be, to leave him rest, but she can't because he didn't leave her alone when she was so desperately consumed by emptiness and pain.

"I had seven surgeries, on my right knee and back, before they put the metal plate in my knee." Quinn admits, holding her gaze still.

"You're in constant pain?" she asks, sadly.

"No, not constantly." he honestly replies.

Quinn pauses,

"When I'm with you, it eases up." he admits.

Carrie considers his words carefully.

"You overdosed, Quinn." she states.

He sighs. "I took too many, accidentally." he replies.

"Accidental overdose?" she asks, almost like she doesn't believe him.

Quinn smiles, again.

"Did you really think you were going to get rid of me so easily, Carrie?" he asks.

"Brody, you can't avoid this." she answers, quickly. "You almost died." she states.

Quinn breathes, sharply, inwards. "You just called me Brody." he states, his eyes flickering towards the floor.

Another moment of silence passes them by.

"Do I remind you of him?" he asks, finally, despite how inappropriate such a question may be.

She only gives him more silence.

"Do I, Carrie?" he repeats.

"I'm sorry." she whispers.

"Don't apologise, answer my question." he instructs. "Do I remind you of him?" Quinn repeats.

She hesitates.

"I guess." Carrie finally admits.

"Mmm." Quinn murmurs.

As their eyes meet again, Carrie softly sighs.

"There are things that I loved in him that I see in you." she says.

Quinn can take his eyes off of her.

"You love me...?" he begins, uncertainly, with a clear caution in his voice.

"Quinn, I can't do-" she says, quickly.

"I know." he gently assures her.

"I don't want you to, I don't need you to say it either." he says, quickly, because he doesn't need her or want her to say those words to him if she's not ready. "That's not what I want." he promises.

"What do you want, then?" she finally asks.

"I want you to stay with me," he says, the vulnerability returning to his voice. "I just want you to stay." he says.

Carrie's eyes flicker towards his hands, which are still resting on his chest. She stretches forward and takes his left hand, holding it with her right, she smiles.

"I can do that. I can stay with you." she says, finally.

She stays with him because he stayed with her, he came back to her, and he saved her.

* * *

**A/N: **_A Carrie & Quinn one-shot, an idea that came to me. I didn't plan this but rather dreamt of it.  
Don't get me wrong, I ship Carrie and Brody but I believe that there's something  
between Carrie and Quinn, something special, a bond perhaps.__  
So, I just wanted to explore that a little more and I hope that you enjoy reading._

_I apologise for any spelling errors._

_Thanks for reading.  
_**X**

**For Mag.**

_**P.s** I have a Quinn and Carrie story, which isn't a one-shot, in the works and it'll be similar to this in some ways but you'll have to read to find out._

Dear Guest reviewer; who reviewed as guest; Thank you very much for reading & reviewing. I will be, in a way, continuing this one-shot in my new story I'll be with you. It has its obvious differences but there will be similarities and themes from this one. Thanks for reading.


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